


Old Enough to Know I’ll end up Dying

by StupidGenius



Series: Can’t Backflip off Buildings if You’re Dead (Or Without Friends to Cheer You on) [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Claire is called, Feelings are discussed, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, background Clair/Karen, fights are had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: (“Look, Matt, you can’t just – I know you’re used to doing everything alone.”I was too, she doesn’t say. “But, it’s – you’re notaloneanymore. You have us, right? At least, I like to think you have us. And we love you. Foggy – he loves you a bit differently than I do, obviously. But, we both love you, and we just want to know what you’re doing. Not – not everything, not yet. Just the important things, for now. Three heads are probably a lot better than one, you know.”)Look. Foggy never planned on having a heart attack before his forties (Or ever). But being friends with Matt - well. He may need to schedule a doctor's appointment.





	Old Enough to Know I’ll end up Dying

**Author's Note:**

> Part Two! Finally!
> 
> i hope this fic makes more sense that i feel like it does. Thanks so much to everyone who read the first part of this and told me how much you liked it! And thank you [SelKar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SelKar/pseuds/SelKar), for correcting my Spanish! (My mother would be so ashamed if she knew how terrible my Spanish writing truly is). 
> 
> Anyway! This one has Karen's POV as well!
> 
> (Also, the titles of these two fics were taken from the song '[Fickle Game](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu3_bNLR328)' by Amber Run.)

Matt wakes up to the smell of blood.

Okay, scratch that.

Matt wakes up to unbearable pain, the smell of what he’s pretty sure is his own blood filling the loft. It’s mostly coming from a spot on the rug, and, closer, various pieces of cloth on the floor near the couch. Slowly (and painfully, jesus _fuck_ , everything hurts), he lifts his hands and lets them roam over his torso, feeling the fresh stitches on his chest and ribs, and the large, thick bandage over the right side of his abdomen. He lifts it a bit, and the scent of more blood and disinfectant fills the air.  He puts an arm up on the top of the couch to try and lift himself up, but the second he does, everything just feels _worse_ , somehow, and a yelp of pain slips past his lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Foggy’s voice says, coming from the kitchen.

He hadn’t even noticed.

He can hear Foggy’s footsteps as he comes over to the chair next to the couch, his heartbeat quick.

“Did…did you stitch me up?” He asks.

“I called Claire. You pretty much forced me to, after you took a swing at me for trying to get you to the hospital.” Foggy spits out, clearly angry. Matt feels pretty horrified, right now.

“I don’t remember that.” He frowns. Even his face hurts. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, what exactly are you sorry for, Matt?” Foggy throws himself down on the chair, something in his hand making a sloshing sound – alcohol. He’s drinking Matt’s beer. “Is it the breaking my phone screen part, or the fact that I came in here last night and found you half dead and bleeding out? Which is it?”

“Foggy –”

“You almost died, Matt.” Foggy says, suddenly standing. “Oh! No, wait, my bad. You _were dead_ , _Matthew_! Your heart wasn’t beating for a whole goddamn minute. You were dead, and Claire wasn’t here yet, and your blood will probably never come out of that rug. Is that what you’re fucking sorry for, Matt? That I had to watch you die?”

Matt sucks in a breath. “Yes.”

“Really?! Cause you could have fooled me!” Foggy stops, heart hammering. “Who did this to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes! Yes, it does fucking matter! Matt, you – _you_ matter, okay?! To me! _You matter to me_ , so what happens to you matters to me too. Tell me who did this.” He insists. Matt closes his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill. He shouldn’t be crying right now. This is all his fault, everything – Foggy’s mad at him, Fisk is still free, he can’t – he doesn’t have time to cry.

“F-Fisk.” He spits out. “And Nobu.”

“Nobu?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah, I think he’s some…some kind of ninja, or something.”

“A ninja?” Foggy breathes. Matt nods.

“I think.”

“What are you doing, Matt?!” Foggy suddenly explodes, so sudden Matt actually jerks in surprise. The movement makes pain flair up everywhere, and he groans. “You – you’re a lawyer! You’re supposed to be helping people.”

“I am.”

“In a mask!”

“You knew who I was when you got into this.” Matt reminds him. He never told them exactly how dangerous everything he did was, but Foggy – he should have expected this. “You knew about the mask before you even knew my name.”

“I –”

“ **Karen. Karen. Karen**.” Matt’s phone starts vibrating from somewhere on the floor. “ **Karen. Karen. Karen**.” He reaches for it, but Foggy snatches it away from him.

“Foggy,” he pleads, “Foggy, don’t –”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell her what happened? Don’t you think she deserves to know why you won’t be coming in to work, Matt? I thought you promised no more secrets..”

“I never promised that. It was to protect you, please –”

“We don’t need protecting, Matt!” Foggy shouts. But he ignores the call anyway, the final ‘Karen’ his phone manages to say cut short. The phone drops on the floor.

“You do.”

“No we don’t.” Foggy snaps. He runs his hands through his hair. “Maybe – if someone with your ridiculous fighting skills was trying to hurt us, then you totally have our permission to push us back and take care of it, but – jesus christ.” he sighs. “You have no idea what this is like. What it feels like to – to see you like this! You –”

Foggy’s phone starts ringing in his pocket. Matt can hear the swish of fabric as he pulls it out.

“It’s Karen. She’s probably worried about you.” Matt can’t think of anything to say. Foggy answers his phone. “Hey.”

 _“Hey,”_ He can hear her voice on the other line, concerned _. “Claire just texted me I should check up on Matt? I think something’s happened to him. I tried calling him but he wouldn’t answer. Where are you?”_

“I’m at his place.”

“ _Is everything okay_?”

“No. Matt’s –” He can feel Foggy’s gaze on him. “He’s hurt.”

_“Shit. How bad? Is he gonna be okay? Look, I’m – I’m coming over there.”_

“Maybe later.” Foggy sighs. He runs a hand over his mouth. “But not – not now. He’s not awake.” He lies.

_“What happened?”_

“He was an idiot, just like always. I’ll tell you more about it later. Or, maybe he should. I, um. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you if we need anything, okay?”

 _“…okay. If you say so.”_ She sounds mostly annoyed now, though still concerned.

Matt closes his eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s dressed now. Kind of. Foggy had watched him struggle to slip on some sweats and a hoodie, little grunts and groans of pain escaping him. He’s lying down on his less injured side, eyes closed but clearly not asleep. Foggy doesn’t know how to feel at the moment (hurt, worried, tired), the words he wants to say a jumbled mess in his head. Matt’s eyes open.

“Say something.” He whispers. Foggy throws his hands up.

“You run around dressed like a moron, beating people up.”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” Matt protests. Foggy shakes his head, a familiar and tiring argument rising up.

“No, I don’t know _shit_. Not about this. I mean, how – okay, so you get these whatever-you-call-thems when you’re a kid. How do you go from that to what you’re doing now?” He asks. Because, in all the time they’ve known each other, he’s never thought to fucking ask – how _did_ Matt become the way he is? Matt frowns.

“I told you about the spill. Someone trained me.”

“Yeah, elaborate on that. That news footage of you…in the alley, after the bombings…the way you were flipping around, and the way you moved at Claire’s…Your dad was a boxer. He didn’t teach you any of that stuff, did he?”

“He didn’t want me to fight, you know that.” Matt sighs. He looks tired. He should be.

“So how’d you get so good at it?” Foggy asks. Matt hauls himself up with a groan of pain, waving off Foggy’s hesitant attempt to help him.

“An old man named Stick.”

Foggy scoffs. “You’re shitting me.” Matt shakes his head.

“He found me at the orphanage. He was blind, like me – well. Almost like me.”

“Okay, so, a blind old man…taught you the ancient ways of martial arts.” Foggy huffs. “Isn’t that the plot to ‘Kung Fu’?”

“I know how it sounds.”

“I don’t think that you do.” He rubs at his temple. “Go on.”

“He did more than start my training. He taught me that my blindness wasn’t a disability, that…sight was a distraction. He helped me understand everything that I could do.”

 “And you, what, waited until a year ago to start beating the crap out of people” He asks. Matt turns his head towards the window.

“When I was a kid, before the accident…I’d lay awake at night listening to the sirens. I liked to put stories to them. Trying to figure out what they were for, ambulance or cops, robbery or fire. It was just a stupid game. But after I lost my sight, after my abilities developed, I realized how many sirens there actually were…how much this city suffered every single night.” Foggy pales.

“You’ve been running around doing this since you were a kid? Fuck, Matt –”

“No. I…I tried not to fight…to make my dad proud. To…to block it all out. The sirens, the pain, the fear, all…strangling Hell’s Kitchen. For years, I buried my head and turned away. Then one night, right after I turned down an internship for L and Z…I heard it.”

“Heard what?”

“A little girl…crying in her bed, in the building down the block.” Matt waves a hand towards the window. “Her father liked to go into her room late at night, when his wife was asleep.”

“Oh, jesus.”

“I called Child Services. Like you’re supposed to. But the mom, she wouldn’t _believe_ it. Said it wasn’t true. And the dad, he was smart.” Matt scoffs. There’s a look in his eyes like…he’s reliving it. Everything that happened the first night he went out and did what he does. There’s this certain light to his unfocused eyes, something dangerous and. Foggy doesn’t know what to think of it, even now, after all this time. He rarely sees that look. “He made sure what he did, how he did it, didn’t leave a mark. The law – it couldn’t do anything to help that little girl. But _I could_. I knew his routine. Waited until he was alone.”

( _Matt remembers following him atop the large shipping crates, dropping down silently behind him with his hoodie drawn up and a cloth over his eyes. Attacking him the second the man turned around. Kneeling over him and just – wailing on him with bandaged fists._

 _“You touch your daughter again, and_ I will know _.” he growls, and then throws a few more punches for good measure. He stands up, over him, breathing hard. There’s blood on his hands. Blood on the ground. He reaches up with a shaking hand and pokes at his split lip_.)

“He spent the next month in a hospital, eating through a straw. And I never slept better.”

“You say all this like…like one day you’d just _had it_ with how things are. But to do what you do…you had to keep training, all those years since that stick guy, knowing you would do something like this. Maybe it isn’t only about justice, Matt.” Foggy realizes. “Maybe it’s about you having an excuse to hit someone. Maybe you just can’t stop yourself.”

Matt looks more vulnerable than Foggy’s ever seen him, lips trembling and eyes wet with unshed tears. He probably doesn’t look much better, honestly. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Matt, not breathing, not moving, bleeding dark red on the floor and over his hands.

“I don’t want to stop.” Matt chokes out. His hands are gripping the fabric over his thighs, toes curling and uncurling over the carpet. A nervous habit.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, if you keep this up. You know that, right?” He asks, heart in his throat. He doesn’t know what he’d do if…

“I can take care of myself.” Matt says, quiet. “What do you think’s gonna happen if I give up now, Foggy? Who’s gonna stop Fisk?”

“The Law!” Foggy explodes. “The law can stop him, Matt, you shouldn’t have to –”

“Tell that to Elena. If you could have put on a mask and prevented what happened to her – you telling me you wouldn’t have?” It feels like a punch to the gut. Foggy’s only actually been punched in the gut once in his whole life (and accident, Karen was easily startled back then), but – yeah. It’s accurate.

“That’s not fair, Matt.”

“We don’t live in a world that’s fair, Fog. We live in this one. And I’m doing everything I can to make Hell’s Kitchen a better place.”

“’A better place.’” Foggy stands up. He feels sick. “That kind of sounds like what Fisk keeps saying.”

“Don’t say that, don’t twist it around.”

“You tried to Kill him, Matt. You told me yourself. How is that any different than the way he solves his problems?”

“I made a mistake, I know that –”

“No, Matt, you don’t! Misspelling ‘Hanukkah’ is a mistake. Attempted murder is a little something else.” Matt’s face crumples. He is – god, he’s such an ugly crier. And so is Foggy. They’re both hideous right now, not that it matters, since it feels like his heart’s being ripped out his chest.

 “The city needs me in that mask, Foggy.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does. But – I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He sucks in a breath. “I love you, Matt. I’m _falling in love_ with you, for some reason, but – this is killing me.”

 “You shouldn’t be.” Matt whispers. And Foggy – Foggy laughs, and its bitter and humorless, nothing like it usually is. He feels hollow.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

He watches Matt for a second. His tear-streaked face and bruised skin.

He leaves.

“Foggy…wait.” Matt breathes. He can hear him scrambling on the couch, trying to get up and failing, a yelp of pain making Foggy feel like the worst person in the world, but – he has to leave. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

 “Foggy…Foggy! Please!” Matt sobs – _sobs_. Foggy left him _sobbing_. He sucks in a shaky breath, tears streaming down his cheeks, and walks faster.

He can’t do this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“So. You wanna talk about it?” Foggy asks, tentative. Karen takes another sip from her glass._

_“Let’s leave it alone, for now.” She sighs. He nods._

_“Okay. No problem.” She takes another sip. “Okay, technically ‘leave it alone’ isn’t really my strong suit, and you know this, so –”_

_“I can’t, um…” She interrupts him. Pushes her hair behind her ear. “I can’t get Danny’s blood out of the carpet. It’s like somebody spilled a bottle of wine and it just won’t come…” She sucks in a breath. “And – and a man broke into my apartment and tried to kill me. He dented the wall where he smashed my head into it. If that man in the mask hadn’t been there…” She sighs, knocking back the rest of her drink. Foggy’s not sure what to do – he is the one who wanted her to talk, but now maybe he thinks he should have thought that through a bit more._

_“You’re here now.” He tells her. “And you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Karen doesn’t get calls from Matt.

She just doesn’t.

It’s not that he doesn’t like her, she knows. He does like her, in a friend way. She can say, with a hundred percent certainty, that she is his close friend, and that he cares about her. She knows this. She just doesn’t get calls from him. He’s not the type of person that calls people they love on a regular basis.

Which is why is so surprising when she gets a call from him at midnight.

“Who is it?” Claire whispers, rolling over. Karen sits up, rubbing her eyes. She flinches when her phone screen lights up.

“It’s Matt.” She blinks, surprised. “Uh, hey, Matt. Are you okay? What ha –”

“Karen?” Matt sounds. Bad. Not like ‘I’m-dying-and-need-your-help’ bad, but more like ‘my-soul’s-just-been-crushed’ bad. He sounds like he’s crying. Karen hasn’t seen his lower lip so much as quiver in the seven months she’s known him. It’s – alarming.

“Matt?” She stands up, looking around for her sweatpants. She remembers tossing them on the floor somewhere after Claire closed the door, but it’s not like she was paying attention to where they landed.

“Karen, I –” A breaks off with a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob. She grabs the closest shirt and tugs it on. “I fucked up.”

“Where are you?”

“M-my apartment.” Claire touches her arm.

“What’s going on?” She whispers. Karen shakes her head. ‘I don’t know’ she mouths. Claire nods.

“Are you…hurt?” She tries. Thinks back. “More than before, I mean?”

“No.” he says, pitiful. She located her sweats.

“Okay. Just – don’t move, okay? I’m coming over.”

“Thank you.” He says. She nods.

“What are friends for?” She says, hanging up. She finishes tugging on her clothes and slips on a pair of shoes. Claire tosses her something – a hoodie. It smells like her perfume. “Thanks.”

“No problem. What was that about?”

“I’m not sure.” She frowns. “Kind of sounds like he’s having a break down. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Shit.” Claire frowns. “Make sure he’s taking those pain killers, okay?” She asks, laying back down and burrowing under the sheets.

“Yeah. That won’t be hard at all.” Karen pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Wanna go to that pizza place you liked tomorrow?”

“I’ll call you hen I’m free.” Claire promises. She grins.

She spends the whole short cab ride to Matt’s place worrying. She has no idea what could possibly set Matt off like this. and, more importantly, where was Foggy? They were so much closer, why would Matt call her? Was he already there? Why didn’t he text her about this? She hadn’t heard anything from either of them since that morning, when she called Foggy and he said Matt was hurt.

She gets to Matt’s door as fast as she can, and finds that it’s already open.

“Karen?” She hears him call. She opens the door, closing it quickly behind her.

“Hey. Are you – oh, _Matt_.” Her hand flies to her mouth.

Matt’s never looked this bad.

His face is half bruised, lip spit and bleeding between his teeth. The parts of his chest that she can see are either bruised or have stitches. There’s a large white bandage peeking out from behind the zipper, and his knuckled are bruised and swollen. He lifts his head when she stops in front of him, eyes aimed at something over her head. When she reaches a hand out towards him, it’s shaking.

“Fuck, Matt, you’re… _hurt_.” She breathes. He closes his eyes.

“Yeah.” She sits (slowly) next to him. After a second, he leans on her. He looks…defeated. Exhausted. A lot of things he normally doesn’t let people see.

“What happened?” She asks. And Matt. He cries.

She’s never seen him cry. She didn’t think she ever would.

He tells her everything. About his past. About Stick. About how he went out last night, angry about Elena. How he was ready to kill Fisk, but a ninja (?) named Nobu found him first, before Fisk, and beat the shit out of him. How Fisk threw him out a window, into the river. Foggy finding on the floor. She glances at the rug, holding back tears when she sees the large new stain there. Matt tells her – everything. All the things she wished he would them about what he does, he tells her now. And then – finally – he tells her about what happened with Foggy.

“He told me he loved me.” Matt whispers. He looks heartbroken. “He told me he loved me, and he can’t do this anymore, and he walked away.”

“He just left?”

“I called him.” He whispers. “He didn’t answer.”

“I’m sorry.” She says. Because, what else can she say?

He sniffles pathetically, pressing a hand to his side and wincing. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Matt? You…you get why he was mad, right?”

She takes his silence as a no.

“Look, Matt, you can’t just – I know you’re used to doing everything alone.” _I was too_ , she doesn’t say. “But, it’s – you’re not _alone_ anymore. You have us, right? At least, I like to think you have us. And we love you. Foggy – he loves you a bit differently than I do, obviously. But, we both love you, and we just want to know what you’re doing. Not – not everything, not yet. Just the important things, for now. Three heads are probably a lot better than one, you know.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” He grips her hand. “Any of you. I thought…” he makes a frustrated noise. “Stick always said I didn’t need other people. That they would just weigh me down.”

“Didn’t this ‘Stick’ guy also, like, abuse you and want you to become a murderer?” She raises an eyebrow. He sighs.

“He didn’t – I _wanted_ him to train me, Karen, it’s not –”

“He manipulated and beat a little – okay, you know what, nevermind. Fuck that guy? He’s wrong about people, Matt. Everyone needs people they can count on. Everyone needs people that care about them.”

(She can’t believe she’s the one giving this speech when, not even two years ago, Foggy had given her pretty much the exact same one.)

He hangs his head, fidgeting with his zipper.

“Karen?”

“Yeah?”

“I hurt him.” She nods. “I never…I’ve had people who care about me like this. I don’t know how…”

“I know.” She stops him. It’s clear he’s uncomfortable talking about this.

“I love him too.” He says, suddenly, like he didn’t mean to. She can’t help but gape a little, because – obvious reasons. They’ve been running under the assumption that Matthew Michael Murdock, devout Catholic and most emotionally constipated man they knew, was indeed a Heterosexual™.

“You – hmm?”

“At least, I think I do. In…more than a friend way. I’ve never –” he huffs., “Never felt like this about anyone.”

She can tell that’s a lie, but she’s not going to push it. She’s already found out more than she’d ever hoped for tonight.

“Did you tell him this?”

“No. It’s not like he gave me the chance.” Matt sighs. “I shouldn’t. Tell him.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“He left.” Matt gestures towards his door, clearly regretting it if the look of pain on his face is any indication. “He said he was done with me. I’m not going to try and drag him back down.”

“Right.” She shakes her head. “Okay, first of all, you’re partners. You own the firm together. We ordered that sign and everything, and it was expensive, so we’re not changing it. And, second, you’re not dragging anyone down, Matt. Maybe I could do without the constant worrying all the time, but – I wouldn’t trade you for anything. And neither would he. I’m sure of it.”

“You – you don’t know that.” His expression has gone all vulnerable again, like he’s about to cry. Part of her feels happy he’s finally confiding in her, but mostly, she feels sad and worried.

“He loves you, Matt.”

“He _left_.” He repeats.

“He saw you die!” She stresses. “He saw you die, Matt. Of course he left. It sounds like he was here since he found you, he just needs time. If I was him…I would have left too.”

That’s a lie. She doesn’t know. But she’s good at little lies. He doesn’t notice.

“Would you come back?”

“Yes.”

 

 

* * *

 

_Karen’s only a year into college when she realizes she hates it._

_Well, maybe not._

_Maybe she’s known for a while she hates it. Maybe it was just a good excuse to get away from…everything. What better reason to get away from your home town than going off to law school?_

_She’s so lost in her own head she doesn’t even notice she’s about to just walk right into another student until it’s too late. The ground she was looking at before has suddenly become the sky, and it takes her way too long to realize why._

_“Oh my god.” She groans, sitting up. There’s papers scattered around them, all blank by the looks of it, but whatever. The student across from her is tentatively feeling around the ground. “Oh – I’m so sorry. I guess I need to pay more attention to where I’m going, don’t I?” She laughs, reaching for some of the paper. “Let me help.”_

_“Thanks.” The guy says. “It’s probably my fault, anyway.”_

_When she finally gets her hands on the paper, it’s – bumpy._

_There’s a white cane a few feet away._

_He’s got sunglasses in his hand._

_OH._

_“Oh my – it’s not your fault, trust me. I was just – daydreaming. Thinking. I’m so sorry.”_

_“It’s okay.” He smiles at her, a bit crooked and kind of shy, and she thinks,_ Foggy would love you. _“What were you thinking about? If you don’t mind me asking. Must have been pretty important.”_

_“Dropping out.” She blurts. He looks a bit surprised, and she hurries to pick everything up and hand it back to him. She holds it out in front of him for a moment before realizing he doesn’t know she’s doing that, because he’s blind, and she’s an idiot. “I’m, um. Handing you your…notes? And your cane.”_

_“Oh! Thank you.” He says, reaching out. She hands him the stuff, standing and dusting herself off. “So, ah. Dropping out? Not liking Law as much as you thought you would?”_

_“No. I don’t know.” She sighs. “Not really liking college in general, I guess. Maybe it’s not for me. But – whatever. I’ll probably stick around.”_

_“Can I…can I give you some advice?” He asks, cautious. She nods, and then_

_“Yeah, sure. I nodded, sorry.”_

_“If you don’t like it, don’t stick with it. Maybe you’ll regret it, but you can always come back if you miss it. You can’t go back in time and erase years you spent doing something you hate.”_

_“That’s…really helpful. Thank you…um. What’d your name?”_

_“It’s –” His phone starts ringing right before he answers, a woman’s voice repeating ‘ **Elektra** ’ with an accent. “Sorry. I have to take this. Good luck with whatever you decide to do, though. Thanks for the help.”_

_She doesn’t remind him that she’s the reason he needed help in the first place._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, it doesn’t look like neither Matt nor Foggy have done much to patch things up between them. Foggy won’t answer any of her calls, instead choosing to send texts like ‘busy’ and ‘we’ll talk later’. Karen hasn’t tried Matt yet, but again, he’s not much of a phone call person. It’s much easier to tell if he’s lying when they’re face to face.

She knocks on his door.

“Karen?”

“I brought you a get well balloon.” She says, shoving the string in his hand and walking inside. The loft looks worse than the night Matt called her over, empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter and dirty plates on the table. There a blankets sitting in a large pile on the couch. The knocked over furniture from that night is still lying on the floor. And Matt, well. He’s got some major stubble on his face, and his bruises are turning and ugly brown yellow green color.

“Uh. Thank you?”

“You look like shit.” She says. Because she’s a good liar, but not that good.

“I guess I look better than I feel, then.” He’s going for honesty. Good.

“You’re walking. That’s…and improvement.” She watches him limp across the floor, going to the kitchen and pulling a beer out of the fridge. Her eyebrows are probably going to join her hairline sometime soon. She didn’t think they could go up so high, but, hey. “Little early for beer, isn’t it?”

“Depends on the kind of day you’re having.” He answers. He puts his sunglasses on, another barrier. He’s not going to be as open today as he was a few nights ago, which will definitely make thinks more difficult. “You want one?”

“No thanks.” She sighs, crossing her arms. “Have you talked to Foggy?”

“He doesn’t seem to be in much of talking mood.” Matt takes another sip of his beer. So, he’s moved on from pitiful and sad to bitter, then.

“Yeah. He won’t really talk to me, either.” She admits. He goes and sits at his table, and she follows. “His, um…his stuff was gone. Some of it, anyway. Just stuff on his desk.” He pauses, lips turned down.

“He’s…he’s quitting?”

“I don’t know. I like to think he’d tell me beforehand. I also like to think he wouldn’t give up on the firm he’s always dreamed about just because you’re both being idiots.”

“I’m not – It’s not –” Matt shakes his head, standing up with a groan. She rolls her eyes.

“You don’t even have an argument.”

“This isn’t my fault.” He says.

“It’s partially your fault. But I don’t want to get into that now. I have something to tell you. About Fisk.”

“What?” He turns his head toward her quickly.

“I…found something. Just a scrap of paper at the county clerk’s office. It was misfiled. Probably why Fisk didn’t get it sucked into a black hole.”

“What is it?”

“A marriage certificate.” She says, standing up. “For his mother, Marlene.”

“How does that help us?”

“It’s not for his father. It’s for when she remarried…two years after all the reports say she died.”

He makes a face. “She’s alive?”

“Yeah, she’s living at a care facility upstate.” She takes a breath. He’s not gonna like this part. “Now, um. Ben and I took a drive up –”

“Karen!” He stands quickly, hissing in pain and clutching at his side. “You could have – Fisk could have people watching!”

“I know.” She nods. “I know, I know that. I didn’t leave my real name.”

“You should have – you should have talked to me or Foggy before you ran off like that.”

“Yeah, well, I tried.” She snaps. “No one picked up, so I went on my own. And I’m fine.” Matt sighs.

“Did you…speak to her? Fisk’s mother?”

“Yeah. She’s not all there, but…Matt, what she said about Fisk…he _killed_ his father. When he was twelve. Just, bashed his head in with a hammer. And she helped him cover it all up.”

“That’s – that won’t do anything for us. He was a minor.”

“To put him in jail, no.” she agrees. “But it doesn’t line up with everything he’s been saying. Everything he’s altered on the internet, and at the county clerk’s. It might be enough to at least get people looking at him more closely.”

“From an old woman who’s not all there.” Matt shakes his head.

“Well, you and Foggy haven’t come up with anything better. Just –look at what he’s done to you! If we can get any information about – anything the people will start doubting him for – isn’t that a good thing?” She ask. He turns away.

“Foggy isn’t answering?” He finally asks. She huffs.

“No. Nothing. I’ve been trying to reach him all day. He just keeps saying he’s busy.”

“Okay. Just…” His shoulders slum. “leave a voicemail. Tell him it’s important. Wait for him at the office. You have to tell him what you found, Karen. Tell him I’m…” he break off. She doesn’t need to look at him to know there’s probably a horribly sad expression on his face. “Nothing. Just tell him what you told me.”

“You two really need to talk.” She sighs, grabbing her purse. He nods, finally turning back to her.

“Only if he wants to.” She sighs, checking the time. “Hey, Karen?”

“Yeah?” Matt swallows.

“You…be careful, okay? I don’t…I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Oh, Matty.

“You know,” she whispers, placing a gently hand on his bruised jaw. His eyes flick around her face, never quite landing on it. “You should consider taking your own advice.” She presses a kiss to a decidedly not-injured part of his forehead. “Balloon’s got a monkey on it, by the way.”

He doesn’t laugh, but the way the corners of his lips twitch is enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy’s not proud of anything he’s done in the past few days, okay?

Yelling at Matt while he’s laying like a giant, sad little bruise on his couch? Bad Foggy.

Confessing his feelings to said sad little bruise? Stupid Foggy.

Leaving sad, broken, bloody Matt crying in his fancy loft apartment? Terrible Foggy.

Immediately leaving to cry to Marci? And then having sex with her? Horrible Foggy.

Ignoring everyone and everything in favor of basically being Marci’s human sex toy for a while? Literally the worst Foggy to ever Foggy, he’s a trash person.

But, is he ready to face Matt, or even Karen, knowing this?

Nope.

“I remember Murdock.” Marci hums. Foggy throws an arm over his eyes.

“It would be very hard to forget him, Marci. He looks like a fucking Greek god.”

“Its easy to forget attractive people when you’re much better looking than they are.” She says. He can almost hear the look on her face. “But. As I was saying – I remember him. Nice ass. Pretty face. Sickeningly sweet personality. Seems like you two would have gotten along swimmingly, if I ever remembered to introduce you.”

For a second, Foggy pictures it.

Meeting Matt that first day, instead of Karen. Going through college with him. Opening the firm together from the beginning. Falling for him and hiding it for years. Would att have told him about the mask right when it happening? Would he have told him about that first night while the blood was still fresh on his hands? Could Foggy have been spared this horrible feeling right now?

No. Probably not.

Because, in the end, Matt is still Matt. This would probably end pretty much the same way it had now.

“I’m surprised you two aren’t married by now, with how much you talked about him these past few months. I’m sure whatever it is, you two will work it out.” Marci says, laying down carefully on the bed next to him.

“I don’t know if we can.” He sighs. She hums, patting his chest.

“Well. As much as I’d love to sit here and watch you wallow in self-pity and guilt, as you so obviously are, I have work.” She kisses his forehead, which is probably the loving gesture she’s ever made or will ever make towards him in their entire lives, and gets up. “Tell karen I said hi, whenever you get around to calling her.”

“Will do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“This might hurt.” Claire warns. Matt grits his teeth as the needle pierces the skin on his side. “You okay?”

He huffs. “You talking about the stitches?”

“Mostly.” She leans closer, shifting the bed just a bit. “How’d you open this up again?”

“I just wanted to see how much I could move.” He admits, wincing. Both because of the pain and because he knows he’s pretty much _asking_ for her to lecture him.

“You _really_ shouldn’t be moving at all.” She sighs.

“I know.” He says quietly. She pauses for a moment.

“You really need to rest. Let yourself heal.”

“I meditate for that.”

“You meditate?” Oh, she’s making a face. Probably raising her eyebrows at him. He’s been told she does that a lot.

“I learned when I was a kid. Helps with the pain. And healing faster.”

“Is that why you’re still alive?” _I’m alive because you still care enough about to me to come help me every time I call, for some reason. Because Foggy and Karen found me that night in a fucking dumpster and decided I wasn’t trash that belonged there_.

“Or I’m just a contrary son of a bitch.”

“Either way, you really need to ease up, or I’ll be stitching a corpse next time around.” She tugs just a bit too hard at his skin, and he hisses. “You really should get some kind of…body armor, like Foggy said. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to be doing this right now.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking he might be right about that.” He thinks back to the night Foggy found him like this. “When Fisk came at me in the warehouse, I sliced his jacket open.”

“You cut him?”

“No. He was wearing some kind of armor in the lining. It was light. And tough.” Claire does the last stitch and he sits up. It’s still sore, but he really can’t afford to just sit around in the bed all day. “Like nothing I’ve ever come across before.”

“That’s what you get when you have all the money in the world.” She says, packing up her medical equipment. He feels around for where he left his hoodie on the chair, tugging it on. He can hear Claire getting ready to leave, and he just –

He doesn’t want to be alone.

He can’t be alone. There’s something awful and dark hovering just under the surface of his skin and he doesn’t want to find out what it is, wants to put it off for as long as he can.

“Hey, you want a drink or something?” he blurts.

“No, Matt. I don’t want a drink.”

Of course she doesn’t. Because why would anyone want to be around him after everything he’s done?

“Wow. You’re the second woman today that’s turned me down.”

“Mm. Considering that the first woman was, I’m guessing, my girlfriend? Probably a good thing.” Claire jokes. “Alright. I have to get going. I need to pack.”

“Pack?”

“Yeah. I’m taking some time off. Getting out of the city for a while.”

“How much time?”

“Why? You gonna miss me?”

 _Yes_.

“I’ll miss having a friend around who knows more than just basic first aid.” He says, because it’s easier. “Is…is Karen coming with you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Take her with you.” He says, mouth moving before he even knows what he’s saying. But. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. What better way to keep your friend safe than sending her away with her girlfriend? There’s no way either of them can get mad about that. “Take her – away. Out of this city. She’ll be a lot safer.”

“You know, I don’t think she’ll like that very much.” Claire says. Matt frowns.

“Going out of town with you?”

“No. I’m sure she’s fine with that. I’m talking about the part where you start making decisions about what you think is best for everyone without actually asking them what they want.” She puts her hands on her hips. “If I remember correctly, that’s the whole reason you and Foggy had that fight, hasn’t been speaking to anyone, isn’t it?” She says, voice harsh. He flinches.

“I guess so.”

She sighs. “That was – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you’re wrong.” She turns away.

“You’re very protective of what you love. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, Matt, but sometimes you have to ignore your instincts and let people choose for themselves what they want to do.” When she’s at the doorway, he hears her pause. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come. But she’ll probably say no.”

“Thank you, Claire.”

“Mm-hm. And Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll always be there, when you need me, okay? Don’t be a martyr. Call me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s not expecting him to cry.

He’s a – well. He’s a big, muscular dude, certainly tougher than Matt is, and usually people like that don’t cry when he beats them in a fight. Usually, they get up, angrier than before, and try to kill him, which would be the part where Matt knocks them out or beats them a second time and gets his information. Never in his life has someone cried, which tells him that maybe this isn’t one of Fisk’s usual goons he’s dealing with.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The guy sobs, trying to push himself off the floor. “Mr. Fisk’s gonna be mad. He’s gonna hurt her.”

What?

“Who – who’s he gonna hurt?” Matt asks. The guy – what was his name again? – sniffles. “Melvin. That’s your name, isn’t it? Melvin Potter?”

“H-how – how do you know that?” Melvin blinks at him.

“Who’s Fisk gonna hurt, Melvin?” he asks again. Melvin’s face crumbles, curiosity from just a moment again suddenly turning to terror.

“B-bets-sy.”

“Who’s Betsy?”

“She’s nice. She helps me. When I…when I get confused.” Oh.

“Why would...why would Fisk want to hurt her?” of course, he knows why. That part’s obvious. Fisk is manipulative and cruel, and hard to say no to. Saying no to Fisk means danger to your loved ones.

“No one’s supposed to be here, in…in the shop, unless he brings them.” Melvin explains. Matt nods.

“So you do work for Fisk.” _Just not the way I thought_.

“I said no, when he asked. Said _no_ , Betsy wouldn’t like it. She wants me to be good, I gotta be good.” He sniffles. “So I…I make things. I’m good at making things.”

“I’m sorry, Melvin.” Matt whispers. “Fisk has hurt people I care about too. I know what it’s like to…worry about them. Wanting to keep them safe. My friends…I’m trying to keep them safe from him too.”

“He make you work for him, too?” Melvin asks. Matt shakes his head.

“No, I don’t work for Fisk. I want to stop him from hurting anyone else. From hurting Betsy.”

“You could do that?” That sounds like hope. Like he’s willing to help, which is exactly what Matt needs right now. Someone who actually believes in him.

“Maybe. Did you make a suit for Fisk?” He reaches behind, to the work table, and feels around for the cloth for a second before grabbing off the table and holding it up for Melvin to see. “Did you make a suit lined with this?” He asks. He can feel the air shifting around Melvin’s head – enthusiastic nodding, probably.

“Made a whole bunch. It keeps him safe.”

“Can you make me something out of this?”

“You want a suit, like…like Mr. Fisk?” Melvin asks. He sounds a bit like maybe that’s a terrible idea.

“No. No, I want something very special. And if you do this for me, I promise to get Fisk out of your life. To keep Betsy safe.”

“You can do that?” Melvin asks, softly. Matt tries to smile, tries and hopes he looks somewhat confident. Fake it till you make it, right? That’s something Karen would say.

“With your help, I – I think maybe I can.” He says.

“What do you want me to make?”

Matt thinks for a moment. His current outfit works for him, aside from the fact that it’s flimsier than paper and does nothing to protect him. it’s black, which is helpful blending-in wise. He needs armor. He needs something that’ll protect him better from knives and bullets because he’s good, but he’s gotten hit before and he doesn’t know how bad it’ll be the next time he’s hit somewhere important. He needs – something protective, something that’ll scare people off, he needs –

He needs to be the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“A symbol.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy isn’t really paying attention to his surroundings until someone grabs the bottle next to him and takes it away. He has to stare at them for almost a full minute before he realizes it’s _Karen_ taking a glass and pouring herself a drink. He’s pretty sure he’s imagining it until she opens her mouth and says something he doesn’t expect (but knows he deserves.

“You're a dick.” She says, downing her glass in one shot.

“The hell did I do?” He grumbles, because he’s even more of an asshole when he drinks while upset. A terrible trait.

“I've been calling you all day.” She snaps, definitely angry.

“Been busy.”

“Did you even listen to my messages?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?” He laughs, and its nothing like his usual laugh, he’s very aware of that. Humorless. Because none of this is funny. “You got a crazy old lady with a story about a young Willie Fisk beating his dad with a hammer. That’s it?” Karen stares at him.

“He beat his father to death.”

“He was twelve, forty-some years ago.”

“Jesus, why don't _any_ of you –” She stops with a frustrated huff. “His mother is supposed to be dead. And, seeing as I went to visit her and actually spoke to her in person, she clearly isn’t. Foggy, this proves that Fisk's been lying. This _means_ something.”

“You know who we're dealing with.” Even if they apparently don’t, not the way _someone_ knows. “It won't be enough.”

“You sound just like Matt.” Karen shakes her head, looking down at her empty glass.

Ah. Matt. Just the person he doesn’t want to hear about ~~or he’ll fucking cry.~~

“You talked to him?” She glances at him.

“He asked the same about you. Sounds like maybe you two should talk.”

“He did?” Foggy asks, ignoring that last part.

“When I was over at his place. What the hell happened? He got hurt, just like he has plenty of times. And it was bad, but – why is this any different than those other times?”

“Ask him.”

“I did.”

“What'd he say?”

“Just that it was his fault –”

Foggy scoffs. “Got that right.”

“ – And maybe he’s right, kind of , but I know it can’t _all_ be his fault. _What_ is going on with you two? Why weren't you at the office?”

“It's not like we have any clients.” He snaps. She glares at him.

“ _Foggy_.”

“We're going through a rough patch.” He says. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Found the Nelson and Murdock sign in the trash.”

“A _very_ rough patch.” He grits out, pouring himself another drink.

“You wanna talk about it?” She tries, sounding so much like he did that night after the murder.

“No.”

“Why?” Shew throws her hands up. “And if you say ‘it's complicated,’ I will punch you in the face.”

“It's personal!” He finally yells, slamming his fist against the stable. She jumps, eyes wide. “It's personal, okay?”

“Okay…okay,” Karen swallows. “it's personal, I get it.”

“Really don't. Trust me.”

“I know you told him you loved him.” She says softly. “I’ve known you had feelings for him the whole time, Foggy, _I know you_. You don’t have to hide that from me. He loves you too, you know.”

“Not – not like that. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. Leave it alone.” He closes his eyes.

“You’re both so – stubborn, _jesus_.”

“Leave it alone, Karen. I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

“You don’t want to talk about?” She gets up. “Fine. How about this, then; they started tearing down Elena's tenement building today. Did you know that?”

Oh.

“No, I didn't.” he mumbles. She looks like she’s torn between actually punching him in the face and bursting into tears. And now he feels guiltier and sadder than he did before, because _he_ did that. He put that expression on her face. He’s never done that before.

“Fisk is still out there, Foggy.” She says, voice shaking. “Be nice if you and Matt could get your heads out of your asses and help do something about it before there's nothing left of Hell's Kitchen to fight for. Work out your shit before something worse happens.” She turns quickly, leaving before he gets the chance to say anything.

She’s right though.

Maybe they do need to talk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s probably the third (fourth) time since the initial injury that Matt’s ripped the stitches in his side. It doesn’t hurt any less each time. It’s also most definitely the first time Karen has seen the extent of his injuries from that night, judging by the soft gasp she lets out, and the way her heart beat increases.

“I’m fine.” He says first, because he knows she’s gonna ask. “This has happened before.”

“Shit, Matt.” She breathes. “That looks…bad. What _did_ that?”

“A hook.” He mumbles, turning his attention back to the task at hand – stopping the bleeding. Its gotten more annoying than anything, at this point, though it would probably be less annoying if he actually took Claire’s advice for once and let himself rest for more than two hours. “I don’t want to get into the specifics right now, if that’s alright with you.”

“And you got that from fighting Fisk.”

“I told you he was dangerous.” He sighs. “I know you don’t like me telling you this, and I’m working on it, but – I need you safe. I want you to lay low for a while. At least until I finish what I’m working on.”

“And what, exactly, are you working on? We’re also working on your honesty, remember?”

Right.

“Exposing Fisk. I’ve…I’ve been talking to a reporter. Looking into his past.” He really hopes he’s looking somewhere near her eyes when he says this, because he read somewhere that makes it more powerful, somehow. “I should have listen to you, that day you told me about his mother. I’m sorry. I was just…I was upset, and hurt. I still am, but – sorry.”

“Thanks.” Karen says softly. And then, louder, “I mean, I’m still pissed at you for going behind my back and asking my girlfriend to whisk me away on some kind of vacation. But thanks.”

“I didn’t ask her to ‘whisk you away’.”

“No, but it would have been nice if she at least _tried_ to pretend like it was her idea.” He can tell the air around her moves, so she’s doing…something. Its hard to focus when he’s in pain, though at least the bleeding’s stopped. “I’m tell Foggy. If I see him.”

“Thank you.”

Foggy.

It’s not like he forgot about him. He’s just choosing not to think about him at the moment.

Thinking about Foggy makes him want to run out and scream, to punch something. It makes him wish he’s just stuck with what Stick taught him in the first place. Avoid making any friends at all – they’re a liability. They’ve made him weak, scared, worried. Vulnerable. And falling in love with one of those friends? The worst thing he could have possibly done. Because love blinds him. Literally. How can he focus on getting information and not getting killed when all he can think about is his best fucking friend?

 _Stop_.

“Matt?” Karen whispers. She’s suddenly much closer, and her hand is on his stomach.

No wait. She’s reapplying his bandage.

“Yeah?”

“This can’t be what we are now. Three people who barely talk. Or don’t talk at all, in Foggy’s case. We weren’t like this less than a week ago.”

“Stick told me…” he sucks in a breath. “He told me I’d have to push away the people I care about. If I wanted to be effective at what I do. This. Being…the Devil. And I listened. Because Stick has a way of getting in your head and just staying there, like a parasite. So I pushed away people I cared about until none of them cared about me, and I pushed everyone away until – until you three. And thought I was getting better about not doing that, but it looks like he’s still in my head, doesn’t it. Because I’ve done it again. I’ve pushed everyone away.”

“Matt, no –”

“I’ve had a really shitty week, Karen.” He interrupts. “The kind where you think you’ve seen the bottom of humanity, and the pit just keeps getting deeper, you know? There are days where I think I should have just said no to you. All of you. And now I – I can’t – I can’t do this alone.” His voice cracks, and he hates it. “I – can’t take another _step_.”

And then she’s hugging him. _Gently_ , because he’s hurt and cares about that, unlike anyone after his father died.

“Matt,” There’s a hand in his hair, “you’re never gonna be alone again. Okay? That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you, just – let us in.”

He’s going to cry. He knows it, and he doesn’t want – she can’t see. So he pushes it down to the best of his ability, along with the part of him that wishes Foggy were here, holding him like this. Because he can’t think like that anymore.

Foggy’s not here.

Foggy may never be here again.

“I’m trying.”

“I know. I know you are.”

“This – everything is my fault. All this with Foggy. Everything I’ve putt you all through – I did this.” He chokes out.

“This is _not_ all your fault, Matt. We’ll get through this.”

He doesn’t know if he believes that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt is… _vicious_.

Foggy’s only seen it less than a hand full of times, you know? How Matt gets, when he’s so full of rage and hate and determination. He’s seen it in the wicked grin he paints on his face when he’s interrogating someone. The look in his eyes when he was describing the first night he went out. And now, as he slams his fists against a punching bag, over, and over, and _over_ again.

He has never seen him like _this_.

He can’t tell if Matt’s even noticed him come in. It doesn’t look like he has, with the way he’s punching. The bag swings violently with every hit, the wrap around Matt’s knuckles dirty, his whole body drenched in sweat (and he looks…really fucking good like that, not that Foggy’s focusing on that at the moment). He’s been at this for hours, and he doesn’t look like he’s gonna stop. It looks more like he’s…like he’s trying to beat someone to death, than just boxing.

Matt could kill someone with those hands. Easily.

After about a minute, his punches slow down, and he rests a hand on the bag as it comes to a stop, face turned down. He’s not wearing his sunglasses.

Matt takes a couple of rough breathes before looking up.

“How’d you know I was here?”

Foggy swallows. “You mentioned you boxed, once. I figured, with your…I thought you might use this place.”

Matt nods. It looks like Foggy’s answer just makes him angry again, because he throws a few more hard punches at the bag in front of him.

Okay then.

“I thought you’d be out punching heads instead of punching bags. Or whatever.” Foggy says. Matt slows down a bit.

“I was. Someone…a good man died today. Paid his boss a visit.” He doesn’t really say much after that, choosing instead to do a series of angry punching that would probably destroy the punching bag’s kidneys, if it was a human being.

“Looks like you have some anger issues. Do you…” he fidgets with his hands. “Wanna talk about it?”

Matt just gives him a pretty humorless laugh in response.

“You’re not my priest, Foggy.” He huffs. “Who you would have met, if you answered – never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Well, that’s a lie. But Foggy’s not sure if he can point that out anymore. He doesn’t even know if they’re friends anymore.

“I’ve been talking to Marci.” He says instead. Matt looks away, but Foggy can tell he grits his teeth. “She’s been helping me. We’ve been copying files from Landman and Zack on the quiet. A whole stack of documents from their dealings with Fisk and Owlsley at Silver and Brent.”

Matt slams his fist down on the corner of the boxing ring, a reaction Foggy _really_ wasn’t expecting.

“A reporter – a  _friend_ – is dead, Foggy, because _I_ dragged him into this. And now you’re going and doing the same thing to your – your ex girlfriend.”

“Don’t point your finger at me. We’re being careful.”

“You have to stop. Fisk has to…” he takes a breath. Runs a hand over his face. “I have to stop him. Before there’s no one left to bury.”

Foggy wonders was it’s like. To carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, the way at thinks he should.

He doesn’t like it.

“Matt.” He says. Matt just ignores him, grabbing his jacket off the ring. “Matt!”

“What?”

“Last time you went after Fisk, I found you half dead, bleeding out on your fucking carpet! More than half! You actually died! If you go after him again, he’s going to kill you. Do you get that? You will die. Or You’ll end up actually killing him, which might as well have the same effect on someone as catholic as you are.” Foggy takes a breath. “I can’t – I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what I’ll do if you die and I could have stopped it.”

Matt makes a face like he’s just been stabbed in the chest, or worse.

“Foggy…”

“Yes?” _Are you finally coming to your senses, Matty? Are you finally realizing this is too dangerous for just one guy to do alone?_

“You shouldn’t love me.”

Ah. Neither of those things, then.

“Don’t say that. Just – stop. I…” he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even have told you. It was a mistake.”

“You shouldn’t, because everyone who’s ever loved me died. Everyone I’ve ever loved has _died_.” Matt stresses.

“I’m not going to die. Not if I can help it. Not if we figure this out together – wait.”

Wait a second.

Did Matt just say…?

He did, right?

But, he must mean as a friend. That’s totally it, because Matt is a good little catholic boy, always has been, those tend to grow up to be Heterosexuals.

“You…you love me?” He asks. Matt turns his head away.

“I love all of you. You’re all…you’re the only friends I’ve ever had. You’re my family.” He says it like someone’s forcing the words out of his throat, but he does say them. Not the kind of Love foggy was looking for, but – “I can’t lose any of you. Especially you, Fog.”

“Yeah?”

“I – ” Matt runs a hand through his hair. “I love you.”

“So you’ve said.” Foggy says, taking a step forward.

“I mean – I really – I have feelings for you. I love you…differently than the way I love Karen and Claire.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Because that’s all Foggy can say at the moment.

“Which is – it’s why I’m telling you you shouldn’t – because you’ll get hurt. Hurt more than you have been in the past, and I don’t want –”

“Shut up.” He finally stammers out. Matt scowls.

“I’m trying to protect –”

“Me. Us. Yeah, whatever. Get over here.”

“Foggy –”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He huffs, and he walks just a few more steps, and he just.

He kisses him.

He, Franklin Foggy Nelsen, is kissing Matt Murdock.

It’s better than he expects. Matt doesn’t move for about one second, before making this little surprised gasp and opening his mouth, grabbing either side of Foggy’s jacket. His lips are softer than Foggy imagined, which is saying something, because he always imagined them to be pretty soft. Even when he got all beat up, his lips never really looked chapped. It’s kind of an inside joke that whenever Matt leaves the room, he’s actually just going to apply copious amounts of chap stick.

That’s not what he should be thinking about right now.

Should probably be more focused on Matt’s tongue, which is currently in his mouth.

“Matt,” he gets out when he can. “As much – as I love – what’s happening here – we – ”

“Yeah.” Matt breathes, pulling away. “We should stop.”

“Wouldn’t want to get too carried away.” Foggy jokes. Matt makes a face. Does that stupid head-tilt Foggy loves so much.

“Excuse you. Nothing happens until at least the fourth date.”

“Right.” He snorts. Matt smiles. It’s nothing like the angry, vengeful expression from earlier, or the wicked grin of the Devil. It’s soft, and hopeful. Rare. “Everything’s not…fixed. Between us. But…we’re gonna get there. I’m not leaving you, Matty.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The atmosphere in the office has changed.

One big difference being that they’re actually in the office together now. Unlike a few days ago, when the Nelson and Murdock sign was still in the trash and she was preparing a resume for her next job.

Now Matt and Foggy are talking to each other again. Smiling. Laughing. Blushing at each other like two twelve year olds in middle school who just held hands for the first time. She has her suspicions about what happened between then that lead to this.

“You know what doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out?” Foggy says, looking up from his pile of paper. “Cold cuts. Italian meats, cheeses. Why did I become a lawyer, again?”

“To make lots of money.” Matt raises an eyebrow. Foggy laughs, ridiculously fake.

“That didn’t work out so good, did it?”

“Not so much.” Matt chuckles.

“Could have had my own deli.” Foggy says wistfully, clasping his hands together.

“Not this again.” Karen groans, smiling.

“An apron with my name on it and everything.”

Matt laughs.

She missed this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fisk has been arrested.

Fisk and many others in his pocket are being arrested and going to jail because of _them_. Because of what they did. It’s all over the news.

“Now everybody knows what kind of asshole Fisk really is.” Foggy says happily. He puts a drink in Matt’s hand – alcohol, of course.

“And we are the ones that made it happen, the three of us. _Together_.” He’s 99.9 percent certain Karen (or both of them) is giving him a Look right now. He probably deserves that. “And Marci.”

“And Marci, God bless her designer pumps.” Foggy laughs.

“Maybe she's not that bad after all.” Matt says. The thought of Marci and Foggy spending any time alone together makes his stomach hurt, and ridiculous feelings of jealously rise up, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore her role in helping take down Fisk.

“Woman does have a way of growing on you.”

Karen laughs.

Matt hasn’t felt this happy and relaxed in…in a long time.

“See, this right here in this office.” He says. He can feel their attention on him. “This is what's important. Knowing that the people I care about are safe, and having some sense of closure for the ones we've lost. I…” he clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure we’d get here.”

“For Elena.”

“For Ben.” He whispers.

“And everyone else that son of a bitch has hurt.” Karen raises her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Of course, it’s never that easy. Not for them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s going to do something stupid, Foggy can tell.

He could see it in his face before he even knew what had happened. Before he even saw the news, and Matt’s face when from relaxed and happy to angry and tense, head tilted towards the window – listening to a tv far away that wasn’t freezing up like his old laptop.

“Get her home.” Matt says turning away from the cab.

“No! Where are you going? We’re not leaving you, Matt.” Karen starts to get up, out of the cab.

“Back to my place. I’m gonna – I’m gonna make some calls. Find out what happened.”

“If you think I’m believing that for even a second, you’re wrong. We’ll drop you off.”

“You live on the _other side of town_ , Karen.” He starts to walk off. “I’ll be alright.”

“Karen,” Foggy starts. She shakes her head.

“Just go. Keep him safe.”

Right. Because that his job now, as the – what? Boyfriend? Friend that he kissed? Idiot who fell for a vigilante?

“You saw what’s happening out there, Matt. You can’t go up against that in your flimsy black pajamas.” Foggy spits.

“I won’t be.”

“Matt!”

“I know I haven’t totally earned it, not yet anyway, but I’m asking you to trust me Foggy. I know what I’m doing.”

And he really looks like he believes that. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he does know what he’s doing. But people who know that they’re doing still die all the time – it’s just bad luck. Foggy doesn’t want to go home to his apartment tonight and wake up in a world where Matt Murdock isn’t alive tomorrow. He wants to go with him.

But this is Matt we’re talking about.

“All right.” He sighs. A cab pulls up beside them. “Go be a hero.”

Matt takes a breath. “Thanks.” He starts to turn.

“Hey!” he grabs Matt’s jacket, pulling him back towards him and just – kissing him. because he may not get the chance to do that again, and he’s kind of terrified. “If you don’t come back to me so we can discuss what exactly this is, I’m gonna be seriously pissed at you, you got that?”

“Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” Matt breaths. He grins, crooked and happy, for just a moment, and it’s beautiful.

“Don’t get killed.” He lets him go. Matt turns away.

“As you wish.”

 _Dick_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Daredevil?” Karen holds up the newspaper, and Foggy snorts. “That’s what they’re calling him now.”

“Shorter than ‘The Man in the Mask’.” Matt scratches his head, wincing. He’s still a bit sore from the big fight.

“Sounds like he’s gonna jump Snake River Canyon on his rocket cycle.” Foggy comments. Matt laughs.

“It kinda does, doesn’t it.”

“Okay, okay.” Karen giggles. “Let’s be honest, guys. I thought it was a bit goofy too, at first. But it kind of grows on you. And it’s better than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, anway.”

Foggy bursts out laughing.

“What?” Matt asks.

“I just realized how ironic that is.”

“Oh my god you’re right.”

“I thought you guy figured that out a long time ago.”: Matt smiles, shaking his head. Karen puts a hand on his shoulder.

“The outfit is a serious upgrade, at least.”

“I don’t know. The horns seem like a bit much. I mean, Jesus Matt.”

“I wanted a symbol, okay? Something people were afraid of.”

“Good thing you only go out in the dark, then, because I think if anyone actually saw that thing in clear lighting, they’d be too busy laughing to actually fight you.” Foggy says. Karen reaches out and punches his lightly in the shoulder.

“That’s kind of a mean thing to say to your boyfriend. Though, is kind of right, Matt.” She says. Foggy pulls away from the wall, grabbing Matt’s hand.

“Done. What do you think?”

Matt reaches out, taking a few steps and putting his hand on the sign.

“Nelson and Murdock.” He smiles. “Avocados at Law.” Foggy laughs.

“I totally forgot about that.” Karen groans.

“That would be one hell of a sign.”

“Now all we need are some actual clients.” Matt sighs.

Someone clears their throat behind them. Matt turns.

“Are you guys lawyers?” Someone – a man. Maybe a bit shorter than Matt himself. Smells like brunt coffee, just a bit of wet dog and pizza. There’s a strange, low buzzing sound coming from around his head.

“We like to think so.” Foggy says.

“Great. Cause I think I might need your help.”

“Okay. Well, um, the office is just this way, mr…” Karen starts. The guy holds out a hand.

“You can call me Clint.”

**Author's Note:**

> And now, the inevitable:
> 
> unlike what I've done in the past, i wont be adding on to a series i feel is finished. However, since i like this universe I've created so much, ill probably be posting a few more separate fics including other MCU characters! Which my Sad Son Matt will definitely be in.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Send me a prompt](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask).


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